Give time to your heart, give time to your soul
by eden alice
Summary: A moment of weakness brings back something Carla thought was in the past.
1. Chapter 1

Yep yet another new story because I have not got enough to write already. This was meant to be a one shot but it grew and if I had all five scenes I want to include it would be stupidly long so posting it chapters. I'm not that happy with what has been written so far but it is needed to show what I want later on. Just a warning that this story contains themes of self harm so if it is potentially triggering please do not read. As always your thoughts are greatly appreciated.

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><p><span>Give time to your heart, give time to your soul, and release them all<span>

She hummed a little as she hovered around the kitchen absently twisting a chunky bangle tighter against her wrist while she tried to decide what she wanted. Carla had felt an uneasy restlessness build inside, creeping up unexpected and stealing her breathe from the very moment she'd woken in the early hours of the morning.

Her sleep had been restricted to a few restless hours the rest had been filled with staring blankly at the shadows of the ceiling and trying her hardest not to think. The sense of anticipation made her feel uncomfortable and silently she was glad to not have been woken by nightmares for once. Only she could not remember dreaming at all and the absence was like a bereavement that hollowed her out, like she was unprepared.

It left her with a sense of irritation that she had focused on keeping controlled with long hours spent working. Her smile had felt tight and forced when she had negotiated a new contract. The sudden noises from her staff made her jump a little more than normal and yet there was no reason why that one particular day would be worse than any other.

Since the night she had been attacked and the police had poked and prodded her it was as if she was stuck in purgatory, waiting for Frank's next manipulation, new information about the trial. It seemed to be never ending and repetitive as she went over the worst night of her life again and again while she waited for some kind of conclusion. There was no way she could even try and look past it no matter what Peter promised till the trial was over.

Michelle had been the one to notice her tension and question her on it but Carla had felt unable to articulate the slow terror that restricted her chest and left her unable to sit still. She felt guilty as soon as she snapped at the woman who had been such a source of strength.

Trapped in the small office the concern became uncomfortable. It was just that no matter how close they became she still remembered the sister in law who regarded her wearily, who had resented her for coming between her brothers and had made snide digs about her upbringing. It felt impossible to trust anyone with the little flaws in her psyche when she did not want to face them herself.

After a stupidly long deliberation she settled on making coffee. She had picked at the dinner Michelle had thrown together. She had poured them a glass of wine each and then complained that she could not drink anymore as she had an appointment to keep. Carla had waited till her friend left before she gave in to temptation and finished off the rest of the bottle. She had haunted the empty spaces with her glass in hand and a bitter taste in the back of her throat unable to sit down even as a familiar warmth filled her.

She had bolted the many locks on the door as soon as she was left alone, quickly hating the near silence. It made her tense up and suddenly her mind told her Frank would be waiting for her in her bedroom or behind the bathroom door.

She had poured the residue of her wine down the sink in the end angry that her normal vice seemed to have no effect other than making her more fretful and causing a tight pain behind her eyes. Peter would be proud maybe but she does not feel like she would deserve it.

Her phone rested on the arm of her sofa and she did her best to ignore it even though it was always in the corner of her vision. She could not call Peter even if she needed to. It was not a day they got to spend time together and that was another reason for her to hate it.

She had caught sight of him as he walked his son to school. The boy happily chatting away not noticing the look his father had sent her. So full of warmth and longing, sometimes it made her ache, sometimes she wanted to be able to crawl under his skin and lose herself.

But he was spending the evening around his parents, his wife dutifully at his side and she has to stop herself before she became too rational. Before she let herself be jealous of Leanne and therefore guilty. She had no place for the emotion left, no energy to deal with it when she needed Peter more than she had ever needed a drink.

Carla had been alone for so long and yet the loneliness was as sharp as ever.

It was far from an emergency even as the constant tightness of her heart made her feel nauseous. It was the same old pain and she could not justify it but she wanted nothing more than to make Peter come to her. And that he would just somehow look at her and he would know and he would not be angry that she had ruined their secret. And he would hold her and say something profound and finally she'd be safe enough to rest.

It did not matter that she knew it was impossible or that she would never do it. She ached without him. She was so entirely alone without him.

She yawned as she sipped her coffee, her fingers linked around the mug and itching with the new warmth. The liquid was still too hot and made her eyes water as it burns a path down her throat. It tasted strange with the aftertaste of alcohol but she drinks up quickly wanting to rid herself of the sleep deprived fog that slows her mind but does not settle her jumpy body.

Placing the empty mug on the side she wiped the sensitive skin under her eyes trying to undo the smudges that were the remains of her mascara. She wished it was a worse day. That something could tip her over the edge and she'd have a reason to break down and an eventual solution.

The constant fluttering of her heart made her have to breathe deeply against her nerves, like an approaching panic attack that would never arrive. She just needed an end, a way to actually feel something rather than the never ending nothingness.

She settled for clearing away the remains of the utensils that had been used to make dinner finding a small comfort in the banality of it all. A glance at the glowing numbers on the microwave told her that Michelle would be back soon. She needed to regain some sort of control before she returned and really started to worry.

A plate almost slipped through her fingers and clanked loudly onto the pile as it landed. Carla could not help but to wonder if there was something wrong with her.

Everyone around her got hurt or died and now she could not even comprehend her own emotions. In the silence of night she could not help but to wonder if there was something so fundamentally wrong with her that she deserved what had been done to her.

She slammed the cupboard door wishing it was a substitute for screaming and continued to make as much noise as possible. Then there was a knife in her hand and she froze in a half turn to place it back into its place within the rack. It was the sharp one and she'd watched Michelle use to chop carrots.

The light refracted from the blade and distorted her reflection as she stared, twisting it between her fingers. A small frown creased the skin of her brow and she had to close her eyes as something so familiar and forgotten washed over her like rediscovering a favourite book. Her eyes opened but remained locked on the blade.

And then she was acting before she could create an internal debate. The solidness of it all steadying and private. Something that was hers alone. She rolled up the sleeve of her dark shirt and flexed her wrist and watched the pale ghost like scars became more noticeable under the right light.

She could not understand why she had worked so hard to forget this.

With the smallest amount of controlled pressure the knife sliced through the delicate skin. There was a second of sharp pain and then nothing before blood beaded bright against the paleness of her skin. Then there was a stinging as the beads swelled and formed a warm trail spilling out of her.

The sense of relief was enough to make her wonder why she had not considered this sooner. She let the blood flow for a moment as it wrapped itself around her arm like a snake before clumsily picking a piece of kitchen roll and carefully wiping it away.

The cut she made was pink and angry as a new wave of blood filled it. Two new cuts followed as she traced patterns next to old scars digging a little deeper with a new found confidence.

It was as if she was hypnotised by the way the blood flew. She could wear her pain in the damage to her skin. She could understand the way a wound stung and throbbed when she had no name for the way her insides twisted with emotional pain.

For one giddy moment she wanted to show the world. Wanted to them to be unable to ignore the way she struggled and hurt like it was a military badge for bravery. But this was not for the world to see and to judge. This was about coping and having some way of letting the pressure out.

Just for a moment just once in the chance that she might breath again. She settles leaning against the counter and the adrenaline left her with something so close to content. There was something truly fascinating at the amount of blood as it sat heavy and warm against her skin, some of it already growing tacky.

It would get her through another night.

Then the sound of a key in the door brought the rest of the world crashing back on to her shoulders.


	2. Chapter 2

The expression on Michelle's face made Carla's cheeks burn as her friends smile dissolved into wide eyed horror. She had stopped mid joke and regarded Carla curiously like she knew something was wrong even before she properly saw the other woman.

Carla did her best to look away, trying to lessen the sudden overwhelming sense of humiliation and embarrassment as she stood stupidly stuck like a rabbit in the headlights. She had quickly pulled her sleeve down past her hand and gripped it tight with her finger tips in the hope that she could magic the last ten minuets away.

The idea of facing the reality of her actions in someone else's judgment was something she wanted to run from. She could not explain and she had no lie prepared against the truth. The fact that she could willingly hurt herself was something she never thought she could verbalise. But the blood was sticking as it soaked through the delicate fabric of her clothing, her fingers tainted with red and the knife sat suspiciously on the counter in front of her.

She felt like a criminal.

It was all over so soon, one bloody revelation snatched away before she could start to feel better. It should have been a secret but she had been stupid enough to ruin it before she had a chance to use it. Not that she had planned to do it again or had made any plans at all but it was her own private decision to make.

"Carla, what?" Michelle questioned dropping her bag and frowning wearily at the other woman as she walked towards her.

Carla struggled to find her voice, childishly wondering if hiding in her room would make it all go away. She settled for taking a step backwards and meekly shifting her body in the hopes of avoiding Michelle's penetrating stare.

With quick concern that could only come from a parent Michelle quickly noticed the blood and the awkward way Carla held her injured arm.

"Hey did you hurt yourself?" She asked sounding a little fearful and unsure why her friend was so unresponsive.

Carla jumped a little when Michelle reached for her but remained impassive and swallowed against her shame. Michelle was gentle and firm as she grasped Carla's hand and eased up her sleeve.

She hated the way Michelle gasped and started to ask something before trailing off but mostly she hated herself for being so weak. For doing something so stupid that was associated with attention grabbing teenagers and making her friends eyes bright with urgent tears.

"Fuck" Michelle swore as Carla found the courage to watch her face, wincing at the way the fabric of her clothes rubbed against the cuts.

Michelle was still for a long moment. Carla knew the damage to her arm was minor but being allowed to bleed freely made it look like something out of a horror film. She wanted to apologise for the tear than escaped Michelle's dark eyes. Suddenly it was incomprehensible why she would ever hurt herself like that; she could not even look at what she had done.

With a hand under her chin Michelle pulled Carla's face towards her and forced eye contact. The younger woman was as serious as Carla had ever seen her. The hard anger reminding her of the last time Carla's actions had hurt her and that she had dragged the other woman into the street by her hair.

"Tell me this was an accident." Her voice was low and carefully controlled so unlike her normal behaviour.

It was not a question and they both already knew the truth. Carla could not lie to her friend, not after everything, she had already been such a coward.

Then the moment was broken and Michelle took control, wiping away another tear before it could fall she dragged Carla over to the sink and forced her wrist under the stream of cold water with a snapped command to hold still.

She left for a moment clearly to raid the first aid supplies that sat gathering dust in the bathroom. The coldness of the water sent a shiver down Carla's spine, she felt like a child being told what to do but at the same time it was oddly comforting having the responsibility taken away at her most indecisive moment.

When it appeared that the blood had stopped flowing she removed her arm and turned off the tap. Assessing the damage she had caused was grounding and clinically calming. She felt herself return a little as she decided it would not even need a bandage.

Her skin was pink and angry and her old scars were almost invisible against it. It was enough for her not have to think about the damage in her psychic or regard it as an unhealthy habit. It was easier to compartmentalise it all into a one off.

Michelle's eyes were a little bloodshot when she hurriedly emerged. It looked as if she had quickly wiped away her tears; her lips were pulled into a tight line as she tried to remain in control.

Efficiently she tore off a piece of kitchen roll and gently dabbed the other woman's arm dry. She seemed a little more together once she noted that the wounds were not life threatening but Carla was not sure if it was down to wishful thinking.

"It's not as bad as it looks." She stated naively at a loss to what else she could say. Her voice shook slightly after being so quiet for so long.

"Not as bad…" Michelle trailed off her parroting broken by a bitter laughter. She was unreadable as she tore open an antiseptic wipe. "Carla you sliced your own arm open, how could this not be beyond bad."

"I'm sorry." She whispered. And she really was. The last thing she wanted to be was any more of a burden on the people around her when she was only trying to be stronger than she felt.

Michelle sighed and deflated a little. She looked more sad than angry and it only made Carla feel worse. "I don't need you to be sorry I need tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

She pressed the wipe against Carla's skin and the other woman hissed at the way it stung. "That hurts" She moaned half heartedly.

"Good." Michelle shot back as she consecrated on cleaning the damage.

And for a second they could smile a little and roll their eyes and just be normal. The reality of going through the motions of first aid broke the atmosphere and the stigma of it all. Suddenly Carla was almost glad she had literally been caught red handed, it was the calmest she had felt in days.

"That should be fine uncovered just make sure you keep it clean." Michelle commanded softly as she finally let go of Carla's hand. She visibly swallowed looking a little timid and scared. "Come sit with me?" She asked.

Carla hesitated before nodding feeling free to escape but she owed Michelle more than that. The rolled up sleeve of her shirt was uncomfortable and thick as it stuck to her skin. She thought about changing it for something soft and baggy and comforting but decided she should wait a little.

Without a word she headed for the sofa while Michelle lingered in the kitchen clearing up a little.

"Did you drink the rest of the wine?" She asked and Carla cringed. She sat slumped with her elbows resting on her thighs and her fingers woven together.

"Yeah" She breathed remembering how the liquid had looked so much like blood as it spiralled down the drain. She had never really had a conversation with Michelle about her drinking. She assumed her friend thought that sharing a few glasses at the end of a long day would do no harm. Most of the time Carla agreed with her.

"Damn I really could do with a glass." Michelle mumbled to herself. Carla almost told her about the bottle of whiskey she had hidden away before she decided she had probably worried her friend too much already without dealing with the secrets of her drink dependency.

She sat down quietly next to Carla and regarded her silently for a moment before gently taking her hand in hers.

"What was this about?" She asked carefully as if she was unsure of the reaction her directness would receive.

Carla narrowed her eyes a little and pressed her lips together as she considered her answer. It was such a vague and yet all encompassing thing to ask. Feeling remarkably sober she did her best to understand what had taken place herself.

"I don't know." She answered still at a loss. She pulled her hand away to push her hair away from her face as she twisted her body to face the other woman, a sad smile pulling at her lips.

"If I hadn't of walked in…" Michelle hesitated, picking up a pillow and absently traced invisible patterns with her finger tips. "If I hadn't interrupted…" She scrunched up her face like she was about to cry again. "Would I be coming home to find a body?" She finally asked. Her eyes watched the other woman closely breathing a little heavier with nervousness.

"No," Carla answered firmly with no hesitation. Of all the things that had been going through her mind _that _had never even been an option. Michelle had not been present for her suicide attempt and she wondered if that made it worse, made it harder to understand why she would never try anything like that again.

She turned so that she was fully facing the other woman and folded her legs under her body. She placed her hands firmly on Michelle's knees hoping the confidence in her touch would be enough when she was still being regarded so sceptically.

"No," Carla said again. "I would never do that to you. I don't want to die Michelle."

Another tear fell from her friends eyes and it dawned on Carla that for every emotion raging inside her she had not cried once the whole day. She wondered if Michelle thought she was unstable or unfeeling. She wondered when she had become so settled she almost felt numb.

"But you have been doing so well. I don't understand why now." Michelle chocked on a sob. She seemed so sad.

"I'm not sure if I can explain why. There is this constant pressure, a constant fear and until this bloody court case is out the way I can't think of anything else. I guess I just snapped and I didn't know what else to do. I didn't really know what I was doing." She answered softly wiping the other woman's tears away.

"You could have talked to me." The accusation hurt especially when it was delivered so heartbreakingly softly.

Carla was growing used to sharing small pieces of her emotions at AA meetings or with the rape counsellor but never with someone so loved so much. Sometimes it felt like she was protecting them from the extent of her pain. Other times she just did not want to be a burden. Mostly she was so used to being closed off that she had not learnt how to ask for help.

"I won't do it again." She promised. And she really meant it. Besides a moment of relief it had only made everything more complicated. Even the high from drinking lasted longer. But she was determined not to be so silly again just to stop the woman she considered a sister looking so distraught.

"You have to think rationally Carla. Even if you are not trying to kill yourself there is still the risk of infection or nerve and tendon damage. What happens the night you accidently cut too deep?" She ranted trying to press the seriousness of the situation.

Carla quietened her by squeezing her friend's hand. She understood all the risks and she understood why it was not so easy to believe she meant what she was saying.

"I won't do it again." She repeated.

Michelle seemed to relent a little as she moved on to her next question. "Have you done this before?"

Carla shook her head and it wasn't really a lie. It had never been her addiction, her problem. If anything it had been an experiment from another lifetime and not worth sharing. It was bad enough she was already an alcoholic, adulterous rape victim she did not need this to polluting who she was.

Ironically it was the almost lie that Michelle accepted the easiest.

"You promised me you wouldn't do anything stupid." She said finally face filled with turmoil.

Carla could not resist any longer and puller her friend into a tight hug.

"I know love, I know. I'm so sorry Chelle." She whispered into her ear as they clung to each other.


	3. Chapter 3

**Just wanted to say thank you for the very kind reviews. I just wanted to take this opportunity (on a chapter that is a bit of a stop gap before the more important stuff) to say that I'm trying to handle the issue of self harm as maturely and as realistic as possible so it really does mean a lot when people say they understand Carla's thought processes. I just find that there is a delicate line between doing it some sort of justice or losing the character entirely in an issue based story. As always I'd love to hear from readers and I hope you like as I'm not overly impressed with this update myself. **

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><p>In the end they crawl into Carla's bed together. Both emotionally and physically exhausted. Michelle seemed reluctant to leave her on her own. And once Carla overcame her own embarrassment she felt quite content with her friend's constant presence.<p>

Given the choice she knew she would not have asked for help or company. She would have followed her first instinct and lock herself alone in her room and waited till she heard Michelle go to bed herself before she allowed herself to relax. A part of her already knew that she would not get through the trial unless she started reaching out for help. But it was a small part, and the idea so foreign it was easy to ignore and fight till it was too late and she had no one.

But she is grateful when her friend silently sticks to her, shooting her a look that was enough for Carla to know that she would not be told any different. She understood that it was probably more for the other woman's benefit than her own.

She understood and hated that she had unintentionally and selfishly caused worry and grief. She dreaded thinking of what Michelle currently thought of her, just considering that made her cringed internally. Images of padded cells flashed through her mind and she despised her own weakness. She knew she would have to do a lot to convince her sister in law that she was coping but it was still too new for her to be able to talk rationally about what had happened. She was too tired from a day of emptiness and anxiety and she just wanted to regain a little bit of her self back, of her self control.

Maybe if she slept on it she would gain some kind of distance and rationality. Only problem was that once again sleep seemed elusive.

It had not been a test but in a way Michelle had proved that she could be trusted, that she could still rely on her. Ever since Michelle almost left to follow the man she loved Carla had not been able to trust her presence. She would never begrudge Michelle her happiness but she was not sure she would still be coping without her. And while she couldn't quiet have Peter she found herself becoming even more dependant on her friend. She had not realised how much she wanted the other woman around. To have her fire and typical Connor blind devotion had reminded her of the woman she used to be. It gave her some much needed strength.

They had taken it in turns to use the bathroom and to get ready for bed, Carla carefully choosing to wear a soft grey sweatshirt that didn't aggravate the angry skin on her wrist. Michelle had made them hot chocolate complete with cream and marshmallows and Carla had rolled her eyes because she didn't even know she had such things in her kitchen. Suddenly it felt like a girly sleepover but the treat had been nice and settling. The contrast felt bizarre but she consciously stopped herself from making a morbid joke of it all in case she upset the other woman all over again. It was perhaps the most considerate she'd been in a long time.

And when Carla had yawned Michelle had pulled her to her feet and led her towards her bedroom. Even if she did not like being treated like a child she had been too tired to protest. And Michelle seemed to need the contact, seemed to need to have some sort of control and direction and that was one thing Carla could understand.

They had not shared a bed for years, not since a drunken night out when Ryan had still been young. And on that night Carla had somehow ended up on the floor and Michelle had never found a lost shoe. But there was something familiar in the warmth of Michelle's soft and even breathing against the back of Carla's neck while the other woman slept. She still snored lightly even if she always denied it while awake. Michelle had moved closer as she slept and snuggled close to the older woman's back, throwing an arm over her waist.

For a long time it made Carla tense, still uncomfortable with prolonged physical contact and unsure of her own mind. She flexed her wrist, hyper aware of the injury that she had inflicted even though the darkness and layers of fabric, feels the stiffness of newly formed scabs before pulling the offending limb protectively against her chest. It sends a throb like stinging pain through her arm that she imagines in time with her pulse. But the tenderness was only minor, the skin already itching as it started to heal, and yet a constant reminder.

She wanted to be angry with herself, knew that she would be in the morning but that felt far away the longer her thoughts kept her awake. She kept on thinking of the times she had been silly enough to try it before. There were not many, if anything Carla had put it down to childhood experimenting that she had mostly forgot about. And when the events of only a few hours ago were staring to blur in their clarity her old memories seemed like they had happened to someone else.

But some of the feelings seemed to be the same. She remembered enough vague waves of feelings to identify similarities. The idea that it all meant something, that maybe there had always been something wrong with her was like an unpleasant brightness lurking in the corners of her vision and threatening to bring a migraine.

Only everything had got more complicated and harder to define after what Frank did to her. She was already revaluating her entire life and this was another weakness she did not need to have to face or explain.

She remembered Dr Cater asking her if she had had any thoughts of harming herself. And plays the scene again and again in her head, the way his young looking eyes had given away that he was out of his depth with the brutal honesty from his patient. She had been so certain when she told him no. But then in another moment of madness she had taken an overdose so that already felt like a deception. It was more than a little terrifying when she had always considered herself so self reliant to doubt her own mind.

It was all just too messy for her tired brain and her heavy limbs. And there was still a strange calmness that just won over her embarrassment and self hatred. Just enough that she was able to push any negativity away where it could not cause any real damage.

She let herself relax against Michelle's body as her eyes grew too heavy to stay open; thinks that she can handle the nightmares with someone so strong pressed against her back when she knows that the other woman wants nothing from her but to protect her. Thinks that a few hours of safe and uninterrupted sleep might be enough to get her through whatever was going to happen next.


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